Crossroad of Life
by wrorus
Summary: The road he walked stretched straight ahead, on and on until it splits into several ways. Which of these roads led to normality, heaven and hell? That was the big question, but choosing an unknown road depended on the path you took, right? This is the story of Kuroko Tetsuya, a high school dropout meeting the eccentric sociopath, Orihara Izaya. AU.
1. the selfish journey

**A/N**: This is a pretty strange crossover to write and I'm flying blind with such a tentative plot + setting, but I'll make do for relationship build ups... hopefully.

**Warning(s)**:

1) Don't expect any lovey-dovey romance in this story (be it het, yaoi or yuri; unless it's a canon pairing like Seiji/Mika or Shinra/Celty, mainly because I, too, can write things other than yaoi), but be warned if the story takes an unexpected turn to exploring the genre, since a few of the main characters of the fic is either asexual, demisexual, bisexual or pansexual (this isn't entirely canon, but exploration on characters, right?).

2) I'll be exploring the possibility of Kuroko developing a slight depression disorder, though it won't be escalating to self-harm or suicide (I wouldn't have a story if one of my main characters committed suicide).

3) Rating will stay T and if any sort of gory or sexual situations happen, it will only be mentions.

4) Explorations on different things.

**Summary:** The road he walked stretched straight ahead, on and on until it splits into several ways. Which of these roads led to normality, heaven and hell? That was the big question, but choosing an unknown road depended on the path you took, right? This is the story of Kuroko Tetsuya, a high school dropout meeting the eccentric sociopath, Orihara Izaya.

* * *

**Crossroad of Life  
**

[ . . . 1 . . . ]

[ . . . the selfish journey . . . ]

* * *

_"Alice came to a fork in the road. 'Which road do I take?' she asked._  
_'Where do you want to go?' responded the Cheshire Cat._  
_'I don't know,' Alice answered._  
_'Then,' said the Cat, 'it doesn't matter."_  
―** _Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland _**

* * *

There was a time when something mattered to Kuroko. Or, in his case, _some things_ instead of _just something_. There were things like basketball, a daily life where he was no longer alone, consecutive victories, the promise with his childhood friend and upholding it, the joy of playing basketball, his teammates and most importantly ― or maybe not-so important anymore ―, his second best friend's smile when he was happy. All of these matter, _should have_ mattered, and still should, but it no longer did and probably never will ever again.

Maybe, once upon a time, he cared far too much for them, disregarded everyone else and forsook the chances of ordinary friendships, which was what led to his imminent and undeniable downfall.

They threw him away and he became the outsider among geniuses of geniuses. They were supposed to be_ his friends_, who were supposed to be there for him when he needed them but all they did was rip his still beating heart in to pieces with a knife.

So, he replaced all what was supposed to be the utmost of significances to him with cold eyes, steely determination, new found goals to get by and the fear of losing everything and being unable to pick up the shattered pieces to motivate him. Kuroko felt that he was less than human if he didn't care, so he tried and tried again. Perhaps that was what truly pushed him to join Seirin's basketball club, find a new light and fight against his ex-teammates.

Deep down, it scared him on how much he began to rely on people he only knew for only less than four years. It was as if the isolation became the stranger and the warmth of friendship wrapped around like a hug from a friend. He absolutely abhorred the feeling of helplessness without someone being there for him. Kuroko used to be fine without a person beside him, no matter how much Ogiwara insisted that they were best friends and they should be together forever, though he was convinced by a disgruntled Kuroko to be there just half or, unluckily for Kuroko, most of the time.

When he formed his goal, he already planned it meticulously, created contingency plans for contingency plans and excellent strategies woven like spider thread, excluding the unknown variables that were the possible abnormalities that might appear in his perfect plan made to receive a form of closure.

However, it all worked out in the end. To be honest, he didn't know it would actually happen, since how it formed was due to wishful thinking of wanting to be able to change it, so he would thank Seirin for most of their hard work, especially Kagami. Kuroko already knew he didn't do much ― he never did much anyways ―, but it still didn't stop him from having glee that was slowly settling in until it caused the tiniest hint of a smile.

But then, all the happiness washed away like sand with water, when he realized important things. This shouldn't be affecting him as it wasn't even a part of his priorities, so he should be cheering and celebrating with his comrades. Nonetheless, it caused an unsettling feeling to breed in the depths of his heart and a new kind of worry that itched too much until it cause an irritation.

It could be why, in the dead of the night, where everyone was sleeping in Kagami's living room from exhaustion of their last game and partying too much, Kuroko left the room with a tight twist knotting uncomfortably in his stomach, while slowly putting bits of information together to conceive a plan to disappear. Although Kuroko felt less than human if he stopped caring, he also felt like that he was better off dead than being here as his hopeless self without dreams.

He was going on a selfish journey to god knows where, alone once again.

. . .

. .

. . .

Kuroko has already given his resignation letter to the advisor of Seirin's Basketball Club when he swung by his school, or ex-school now since he officially withdrew, without much of a fuss made since his team (now no longer his and never will be) wasn't there to stop him. Despite it being just twelve and a half hours since he last saw them, Kuroko started to miss them, although it didn't deter him from his next great adventure and finishing the final checks.

He closed his black trolley case with a soft but audible snap and click, then placing it upright on its two wheels, to pull it along later when he finished checking if he left anything. Scanning the room half-heartedly, he found nothing else he needed to take, like his worn out basketball (he wouldn't be needing it anymore), his books (he could bring all of them to his new place later, that is, if he manages to find one) and half of his clothes, since he didn't need to bring that many.

Kuroko was practically set to go on his selfish journey.

Contrary to popular belief, Kuroko wasn't as much of a saint as Kagami said, when the fiery teenager decided it was time to wax poetics with bits of vulgarity thrown in about his best friend.

What people didn't know was that Kuroko thought of himself as outright rubbish and a waste of space. At times, he felt like he was only hanging on the thinnest thread to get through life without thinking how useless he was compared to others and without the thoughts of how he should _just end it_, right then and there.

Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to do it without going through the possible consequences, but it was, for the lack of better word, nice to know that he could have ended everything without resolving a single regret, yet he chose to continue his life, despite the hardships and pain he faced. Although the hardships he has encountered can't even hold a candle to the countless of lives destroyed by poverty and hunger somewhere else in this world, Kuroko still felt it was equally as excruciating.

Enough of the depressive thoughts, though. Kuroko closed the door, making sure not to wake up his grandmother and her paid caretaker and left the apartment. Right now, he was on his way to the train station, taking slow steps to the first pit stop of his journey; somewhere so close and loud that no one would think to find him there at all.

It would be easy for someone like him to blend in and disappear in a district like good ol' Shibuya.

. . .


	2. a mad crow calls the lonely dove

**A/N**: Here's the second chapter of CoL, fresh off the press. Do enjoy and please review! :D

* * *

**Crossroad of Life**

[ . . . 2 . . . ]

[ . . . a mad crow calls the lonely dove . . . ]

* * *

_Birds of a feather will flock together._

**_― Martial, Epigrams_**

* * *

Kuroko arrives at Shibuya on a cold Wednesday morning, at ten-forty-eight am on the twenty-second of December. Even if a decade passes by, he will definitely remember the exact day, time and date that marked the very beginning of the moment that will lead to a great change in his life.

Shibuya is exactly what he remembers; the overcrowded population, assorted colors, traffic jams, different trends, the smell of delicious food from roadside stalls and constant noises from the traffic lights. Then there is also the endless chattering of school girls with their friends, businessmen on their phones, families and carefree teenagers looking for fun. To put it simply, it was a lively and deafening city.

He has been here a few times to indulge himself in the latest arrivals from his favorite authors, but the idea of living in such a loud and bright city did not cross his mind at all. Now that he was here though, he somewhat wanted to rethink his decisions, but then again, that was the beauty of it, him, of all people, living in a place known for its nightlife activities.

They would never even think to find him here and although Kuroko wanted to fancy the idea of them knowing him really well, they, in fact, _did not at all_. Beyond basketball, vanilla milkshakes, books and the camaraderie found between people who wanted to be the best team in Japan, they didn't know what he liked, what he disliked, where he lived, who are his parents, the type of books he liked, his music taste or what he even did in his free time that didn't involve basketball or reading. Without basketball, none of them would've met, nor would they even speak to each other in the first place. Connection was important and without it, friendships would never be made and "fated" meetings would be null. That was how the world worked when it came to human contact and Kuroko knew it very, very well.

That was why he wanted a break, an escape from the reality that was forged by basketball. He wasn't a big whiner or a sore loser when it came to things he couldn't control or stop, but he was just_ sick and tired_ of his life being dictated by broken friendships, memories of his hellish third year at Teiko, a single bond of a "light" and "shadow", the lost of his first friend and an orange ball that he equally love and hated. He just wanted to wash it all away like dirt off feet, as simple as that.

So, instead of dwelling on the past, he chose to strive and move forward, away from the people that he called friends and teammates. While the method he chose to do so was extremely selfish and basically no regards for the people he will obviously hurt, especially when he has just managed to get his old friends back and won a war against his ex-captain with his new comrades, he has been hurt enough times ― be it from his friendship with Ogiwara that would never be mended, making Momoi cry twice, the feeling of being a stranger amongst cold geniuses, Haizaki throwing his shoes into the incinerator and being forced to quit the team, the loss of a second best friend and being stuck somewhere in between the past and the present, not exactly in that order ― that he had every right to be a downright uncaring jerk.

Sure, it was a pretty lousy reason to use in justifying himself, but Kuroko was satisfied being the bastard this time around because he had enough of being indirectly pushed around for caring too much. He just wanted to be dead to emotions and tears.

_This is it_, Kuroko decided in his mind, with a voice that was of cold, steely determination. _This time, I'll be free_.

He walked with the crowd, blending in, walking along the crossroad.

. . .

. .

. . .

An hour or so has passed since his arrival and so far, nothing has changed, except for the fact that he was in an old, obscure coffee shop, seated in one of the dimly lit backseats, at the food district of Shibuya. There weren't many people inside, with only two businessmen discussing about their latest shares, four women having a heated debate about the best kind of boyfriends, an elderly couple enjoying their coffee together with the occasional inputs of casual conversation and a man typing away on his laptop. This was a hobby of his; to eavesdrop on the unsuspecting, observe their actions and find out about the little details of a stranger's life. In a way, it was fun, to see others going in and about on their daily lives with the most trivial sort of things, especially when you learn little facts that not even that person's friends know and sometimes, create the facts.

For example, one of the businessmen, the one with the dark red tie, is about to have a divorce. The wedding ring on his hand was not as well-taken care of as it should be, since the polish was fading and the ring looked like it was slipped on rather carelessly, because the little diamond was facing a little bit to the right rather than the middle. His tie was also hastily tied, unwashed and not ironed, judging by the creases that weren't smoothed out and a small dark patch at the corner, probably a coffee spill from lunch break or an alcohol spill from partying with his co-workers. Usually, those who were married had their wives tie their ties everyday and wash it for them, commonly on a weekly basis.

Then, one of the four woman, who was giggling in an awfully annoying way, is actually a victim of abuse, either verbal or physical and maybe from an abusive boyfriend. Sure, at the moment, she didn't seem like the type and looked like any young woman should be; beautiful, confident, happy and carefree. What others wouldn't have noticed, is the fact that her eyes constantly turned left and right, flitting across the room, as if she's scared if something will hit and hurt her. Her left arm's knuckles, which is on the table, rap against the table in a systematical continuous way while her other arm is hugging herself in a slight protective way, showing that she's nervous. Lastly, she quivers slightly whenever she wants to voice out her opinions, often hesitating to say them and readjusting her collar before she spoke (like she was too indecent or lascivious, but she was wearing a turtleneck and long jeans with boots that showed no skin to ogle at, unlike her friends who wore dresses, short skirts and high heels), before changing it to "it's nothing" or a shake of the head.

There wasn't much to observe when it came to the elderly couple and the tired-looking man, except for the fact that the former were from good homes, judging by the clothes they wore and the latter was probably working away for an incoming deadline.

_Enough of observations though_, he berated himself for unintentionally procrastinating as he sipped his milk tea (he absolutely detested the strong taste of coffee) while looking through a few flyers about flats, condominiums and rented rooms. He didn't have anywhere to stay in Shibuya currently, so finding a home was his top priority and he hoped he would be able to find it in, at least, the minimum of five days. Staying at a hotel was demanding and he didn't want to waste the money he had access to, which was his parents' bank account, despite having enough in there to buy a mansion, three four-star hotels and purebred horses.

Kuroko hasn't found any that was worth it as of yet. Most of them were overpriced and the rents were unreasonable, especially when they were the same as the ones found in other parts of Tokyo, but less costly. Finding a new place to live in would be a hard task, but not impossible. What would be hard, though, would be comparing them to his old apartment, which was perfect.

He finished the last of his drink in one gulp and left the money on the table, since it would take him a long time to get the attention of a waiter or waitress. Moping around in a coffee shop would do him no good, so it was best he left to the addresses on the flyers to ask for more specific details, since he couldn't ask over the phone. Prior to arriving in Shibuya, he left his cellphone in his old apartment on purpose and broke his SIM card into half to avoid angry messages and worried phone calls.

The teal haired male got up and left.

. . .

. .

. . .

"Sorry, the price can't be haggled." a gruff man said with a stern voice, repeatedly pointing at the price he stuck on the gate. "It's set."

Kuroko bowed politely. "Alright, thank you for your time." He left the area, taking out the one the last flyers he had to cross out the address, marking that he already went to the place.

None of the places he went to were suitable for him. Most of them were rundown (desperate, but not that desperate), had electrical issues, too expensive or had technical difficulties every once in a while (water would run out at random times, electricity was scarce and hinges of doors were rusted enough to break), which left a bad taste in his mouth. He wasn't expecting a perfect cupcake among the dozens, but he needed a home that he felt was comfortable to live in.

He wished luck was on his side today.

The wind blew harshly, making Kuroko stumble forward clumsily and release the three flyers from his grasp into the air, flying along with the flow. Kuroko stood there awkwardly in mid-pause, unsure whether if he should break into a sprint to get them back or just let them go. Good thing a person came to his rescue, letting Kuroko withhold any unnecessary actions.

A man walked in the line of Kuroko's sight, getting closer with the two flyers he managed to salvage from the wind. "Are these yours?" he asked with a perfectly carved out smile.

Though Kuroko knew better ― that smile was fake, judging by the way it never reached his eyes and just one look at his eyes were enough to make him feel nauseous and disturbed in the worst of ways.

The unknown man had eyes that pierced through the depths of his soul, in such a way that tore it all apart and was able to see all the good and bad he's committed in his life, which, frankly, unnerved him. He disliked people who thought they could see a person's true colors just because they managed to piece the fragments of a baseless idea together. Kuroko absolutely detested arrogance befitting a corrupted judge and purposeless pride (often called The Hubris in Kuroko's mind), so he hoped that this deceptively kind stranger was not what he was currently picturing.

In spite of that, this wasn't the problem. What frightened him the most though, was the color of his eyes.

They were of a reddish-brown, but the light reflected on them made the pair look like an eerie shade of red.

. . .


	3. across the murky river lies the devil

**A/N**: I've been receiving many positive remarks so far, so here's an early update to thank you all. :) Big thanks to guest-chan, **Rika**, for the nice long review. I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, since I tend to miss my own pretty easily. Please leave a review after reading, thanks!

* * *

**Crossroad of Life**

[ . . . 3 . . . ]

[ . . . across the murky river lies the devil . . . ]

* * *

_"Be not afraid of growing slowly. Be only afraid of standing still." _

_― **Chinese Proverb**_

* * *

Orihara Izaya is a kind, hard-working, down-to-earth honest young man working his way through daily life candidly without any black marks staining his perfect record and without creating a criminal record. He is the type who helps old ladies cross the jam-packed roads, saves cats from trees, feed the homeless with his hard earned money and _―_

Just kidding.

The man named Orihara Izaya is anything but nice.

If there was a World Guinness Record for the most sly and shrewd man, Orihara Izaya would have won it without a hitch, hands down. Izaya is a powerful and skilled underground informant with the tendency to give any precious little facts away like unlimited candy or even string lies together to create a certain truth, as long it's for his own amusement and gains.

The informant was on business to Shibuya, since this time, instead of letting the group of pathetic yakuzas find him in Shinjuku, his only base of operations, he decided that it was time for him to make a move.

He wanted to witness the dispute of the two opposing groups, fighting each other like mad dogs with an instinctual "fight or die" motive and the concept of werewolf "pack mates". It amused him endlessly when, in the end, both sides did not realize it was he who planted the seeds of destruction, twisting the rumors into an ugly self-destructing prophecy, waiting for them to unexpectedly fulfill his desire for a "war".

It was just absolutely** _fun_**,**_ fun_**,**_ fun_**, looking at the silly but lovable humans react the way he wanted to in such a strong way. It just meant that he was right all along and he knew what was going to happen, like someone with the powers to look into all and anyone's past, present and future. It made him all the more pleased when the remaining survivor, a lackey leaning on the wall with a bloody arm and broken legs, had asked the stereotypical question with an equally stereotypical expression of shock and sadness.

_"Why?_"

_"Because it's so much fun!"_

Izaya remembers the mad grin he had on his face, sending the lackey into an abyss of terror before taking out a sleek black handgun he had stolen, a Jericho 941 F, and shot him straight into the forehead. The blood spattered behind, creating a big splash of red surrounding the lackey's head like a twisted rendition of holy light shining upon a messiah. He wasn't a sadist or someone who was excited or aroused at the sight of blood, no, but the certain happiness and thrill he had only lasted when he realized everyone died from slaughter and not a single lived to tell the tale.

How boring.

Especially when the thing, **the head**, inside the trunk of his car that was parked closely to the battlefield (the abandoned warehouse at the edge of the district), had not even given a reaction, not even a single blink or a sign of awareness to its surroundings, only silently breathing and sleeping. That was a sign of how boring and utterly unsatisfactory it was, because the thing was a being that thirsted for blood and battles. This silly child's game wasn't even close to what it _needed, wanted._

A wise man once said, "_the two enemies of human happiness are pain and boredom_". That was Izaya's main enemies too and if he couldn't even cause the awakening a single head of a Valkyrie, a heavenly being said to be from the above itself, then it wasn't enough to be a a full-scale war (like he said, just a child's game and a sadly silly one at that). It was true that Izaya loves humans, but wanting to become God more than anything else and ascend into the heavens was enough reason for him to get bored if he couldn't get what he truly wanted.

It just wasn't interesting enough yet for** it** to awake, so it was time for him to go back to Shinjuku and with the help of his twisted version of chess, he would create a new war. Yagiri Pharmacy will take care of the head he borrowed (sooner or later, it would fall into his hands once he destroys it after it outlives its usefulness) and the car he used. Izaya had no need to attend to trifling matters, so he would leave it to them to deal with it.

Right now, though, he could just envision it _―_ the prelude will be a war of two color gangs, initiating a Color War between the rising stars of Ikebukuro, the newly made Blue Squares and Yellow Scarves, thanks to a kidnapping made on the leader's most precious one. Of course, would have to send in one of his most "loyal" agents, Saki, to seduce the leader of the Yellow Scarves and it would be pretty easy too, since the leader was just a young boy who knew nothing of of an adult's world; love, treachery and deception, even when you placed it in front of him.

But sometimes, reality would not go the way he wanted, especially when he didn't even pick out the important variables (something to change or disrupt the flow was what he wanted, although not necessarily needed) and setting the pawns yet. So, he would plan this all out. It didn't matter if it took more than a year to complete (even if the kidnapping plan was just only a hors d'oeuvre before the main course; it will be a good one) because he wanted to break the circle of imperfection and unsatisfactory wars. He would lie in wait, like a predator and only striking when the time comes.

Though all of that heavy stuff would have to wait, he decided. Now, he would take a bit of downtime (minus the alcohol people his age were used to, because he hated alcohol and its gross taste) by walking merrily along the road, trying to find a victim to cure his temporary boredom. Maybe he could pretend to be a mass serial killer, a person's stalker, scare them by pretending to be something of the supernatural or even ―

Then there are three flyers, flying in the wind. Curiosity overtook him, abandoning all previous thoughts into putting effort to catching them. He had managed to get two out of three and all he had to do now was to find the owner of the flyers. He looked around, scanning the area disinterestedly until he realized something very mind-boggling.

That one area, which he thought there was nothing, had a person there with a small black trolley case, standing awkwardly, who proceeded to slowly straighten himself after noticing Izaya's eyes on him. In order to hide his shock, Izaya quickly flashed a fake friendly smile to disarm any concerns (at the same time wondering how he had missed the presence of a human being) and walked towards the young man... or was it more appropriate to call him a kid or boy? Izaya just couldn't decide.

"Are these yours?"

Although he didn't do any of what he initially planned _―_ was it much more interesting than before?

Yes, it was.

. . .

. .

. . .

Izaya was an observant person by nature (a God has to notice each and every thing, be it quirk, habits or characteristics, of His subjects and also His world), so obviously noticed a few things that were off about this particular, intriguing individual in a short span of time being near him.

One, this person has the height befitting of a 3rd year middle schooler. There were all kinds of people and it wasn't like Izaya hasn't met or seen people his age shorter than what their growth was suppose to dictate it to be, but he just _looked_ like he belonged in middle school, that's all. Izaya never did say (be it to himself or out loud) that he was sure this person was in middle school. He didn't look like a runaway either and usually, teenage runaways were less... prepared. He had a glimpse of the flyer and no runaway would try to find a home first and the trolley case was definitely supporting the not runaway theory.

(Orihara Izaya may be an ass all the time, but that didn't mean he discriminates people by how tall they are.)

Secondly, does this person have anime hair syndrome? Who in the hell has **natural blue hair**? Worse of all, it was a distinct shade of blue that usually belonged to the clearest of skies. It didn't look dyed, or else there would've have been black or brown hair roots and Izaya trusted his gut feeling that it was completely natural. Point is, though, who has hair with a color like that? Or maybe this person did dye his hair because of crazy fashion trends these days or if he does belong in middle school, has _chuunibyou_ and to prove that he was some secret dragon knight that was tasked to fight the darkness in the world (or something equally retarded as that) had dyed his hair to stand out? Plausible as these theories were and made much more sense, Izaya was sure this person did not dye his hair. At all.

Third, as redundant as it was, no Japanese person has bright blue eyes. Dyed hair and _chuunibyou_ theories aside, last Izaya checked, this was reality, not some brainless, predictable shōnen manga concocted by an uncreative manga artist. Even if it was, though, Izaya would definitely break the fourth wall to control everyone and to show that he wasn't the manipulated, but the manipulator.

Maybe he was over-thinking all of this. He could solve it all by asking, not taking time to be frustrated and he could be on his merry way to find a victim. This person wouldn't do as one_._ It was because Izaya did not desire to have his time wasted on someone he can't even keep track on first glance and being unable to grasp his presence earlier meant that this person was a natural at escaping. Victims he couldn't even find would be a meaningless activity.

"Your hair and eye color... are they natural?" asked Izaya, grinning and relaxing his body posture to lower the other's guard. It would be extremely troublesome beyond measure if he talks to someone who can't trust him. It would be more fun, but antagonizing a stranger with such mediocre ways would be a frivolous activity and very unskillful of him. He could antagonize others with better methods and much more fruitful outcomes.

As expected, Stranger-kun relaxed, just slightly because his eyes were more guarded, and answered. "Yes. I was born this way." His reply was curt and polite.

Izaya blinked owlishly. Izaya was surprised of how... emotionless he sounded. His face, too, was as blank as a new canvas, like it was beckoning someone to just paint it all over with their colors, with their motif and shaping it to their desires, as if he was a blank slate _―_

That was it!

His cure to boredom, the missing piece of his chess board, the unplanned variable he needed and his personal weapon of choice. What made it even better was that this person, although he looked so calm and unnerved, had **disgust** and **fear,** of him, Orihara Izaya. He could see it in his eyes. What better way to spend his time than to have someone who might (it was a 20% chance, but there was nothing to stop it from increasing) kill him and Izaya could just break him mentally? Especially watching someone break very, very slowly. That would be the best part of it all.

Izaya wanted to be God, yes, but he didn't want to enslave the entire human race. That would be very hard to manage and look after each individual. All he needed was someone who was like a house pet (Izaya preferred crows; he hated cats because they were an obnoxious species and dogs were just too foolish for him), a left-hand man (because Izaya was right-handed, so why would he need a right-hand man?) and his apprentice, all in one package.

The man could see the potential of this person into becoming something so disgusting and feared, not a person that did the disgust and fearing, so he wanted to remove those silly limits called human morals. He wanted to see if this person, this human, could become something like him; twisted, dangerous and incomprehensible. Izaya doesn't believe in anyone becoming his equal, but that didn't mean he disliked anyone who could, possibly, stand at the top where Izaya is and see the same view he's seeing.

It all depended if this person wanted to take it. A leap of faith, is what it's commonly called, but Izaya didn't believe in accepting an intangible or unprovable _something._

It was a gamble, a jump full of risks.

Izaya extended his hand.

. . .

. .

. . .

_"I'm Orihara Izaya! Would you like to come with me?"_

_He reached out and_ _―_

. . .

. .

. . .

Some would say he is a God, worshiping the ground he walks on while others whisper in contempt, abhorring the whimsical man's very existence who ruined their lives for the heck of it.

_Is he a God, or just a mortal?_

The ignorant masses would ask innocently about the monster in human skin, not knowing his true colors. One would even say:

_Or is he somewhere in between?_

**What was this being called Orihara Izaya exactly?**

The fear of the unknowing growls and breathes into Kuroko's ear. It murmurs countless of uncertainties to perturb him, slowly letting the words melt away and find its way to a new container to live in. The sharp claws of darkness sinks into Kuroko's flesh, tearing the soft skin apart and entering like a disgusting parasite that is too stubborn to die, settling itself into its new host.

Fear has found its way to Kuroko and he isn't sure if he is able to shake it off.

Oh, he knows; there shall be no trust between him and this man, whose shadow speaks of broken vows, corruption and falsehood. Even if there is no solid evidence that points out that this man is a lying, cunning, scheming demon with multiple masks, Kuroko can definitely feel it with every fiber of his being.

You can never ignore gut feelings, just like how rumors always start out with a grain of truth, gradually twisted into a web of lies.

Right now, at this very moment, Kuroko knew that Izaya would be the one to change his entire world. It didn't matter if this person was a just supposed to be a stranger on the street, an underground drug dealer or even a human trafficker; all because Orihara Izaya was an unknown force of his own to be reckoned with and to follow someone who let you follow them without having emotional attachments meant that this person was very confident that he would escape any backlashes or betrayals.

Kuroko wanted to know what exactly Orihara Izaya was.

. . .

. .

. . .

_When the other reached back..._

_"I am Kuroko."_

_Izaya smirked._

. . .

. .

. . .

There was a beginning and an end to everything, just like how this was a new beginning for Kuroko and despite how uncertain and dangerous it was...

It made him feel all the more thrilled.

. . .

* * *

**Timeline:**

I've forgot to mention a few things in this fic, which are...

1) I will be following the anime, as I do not read the novel or the manga. (I am also eagerly awaiting season 2 of DRRR, hehehe)

2) The starting of this fic is at least two years (technically 1 year and 1 month, as I've said it's December right now in the fic) before canon (season 1 of DRRR) starts. This means that Izaya is 21-22 (as his age in the anime is 23), Kuroko is 16-17 and Shizuo is 22-23 (anime canon age = 24). Although age might not really be a big matter in this fic, I just needed to point out that it's not heading canon yet and the ages are just a guideline for the timeline.

3) By the time this story heads to canon, Izaya will be 23, Kuroko will be 18 and Shizuo will be 24. The rest of the DRRR cast will be the same (so the Raira trio is younger than Kuroko) and as for the KnB cast (which I will add), they will be 18-20 (depending if they're the first years, second years or third years).

**Notes for CH3**:

chuunibyou = It's roughly translated as "Middle School 2nd Year Syndrome". People with chuunibyou either act like a know-it-all adult and look down on real ones, or believe they have special powers unlike others. There are 3 main types of chuunibyou, but the type Izaya is referring to here is the _Evil Eye-Type_ that admires mystical powers and pretends to have one of their own, to the extent of establishing an alias just for that. Those who watch "_Chūnibyō Demo Koi ga Shitai!_" will understand this type much better.

Izaya noticing a few things "off" about Kuroko = Well, someone had to point out that it isn't normal to have natural blue hair. Hurray for main character syndrome!

Kuroko and Izaya's relationship = How is it going to develop from here on out, as the both of them play a risky, blindfolded Russian Roulette of life for their first meeting? Well, it's going to be unorthodox, that's for sure. After all, Kuroko is already making a big leap of his own and Izaya will push him through to see how it goes.


	4. trigger of a puzzle's clockwork

**A/N**: Do you guys think I need a beta-reader? I'm always afraid that I make silly grammar mistakes and am too blind to correct them. xD Also, totally not crack. Have fun reading!

* * *

**Crossroad of Life**

[ . . . 4 . . .]

[ . . . trigger of a puzzle's clockwork . . . ]

* * *

"_We have it in our power to begin the world over again."_

– _**Thomas Paine**_

* * *

Some people say a train ride is, more often than not, a boring way to spend minutes or an hour or two of your life before you face the unavoidable; your workplace or school. Some might even say it's a good way to sleep in a little, assuming if there's something or someone to wake you up before you miss your stop. There's also a minority who use this time as a golden chance to grope unsuspecting and probably tired school girls, but those are just perverts and therefore don't really count.

But for Kuroko, this train ride is probably the most unpleasant and more or less annoying one he has ever experienced in his entire life.

That is because a pest in the form of a grown man keeps on... questioning him in the most irrelevant and useless things.

In the time – which was less than an hour, really – he has met Izaya, he can safely define the strange man accordingly.

One moment, Izaya was grinning from ear to ear like a child with the world's greatest toy (except that it wasn't an inanimate object he had but it was more like the toy was Kuroko instead) and vibrating in his seat as if he had too much sugar. Of course, the child example this man was setting would've been complete if it weren't for the fact that his legs were too long to swing back and forth under the seat.

"Hey, why is your hair blue?" Izaya patted Kuroko's head like a dog.

If Izaya owned a pet… Well, it should be pitied and if dead – which is more than likely –, should be given the most magnificent and grand funeral better than a shoebox buried in the backyard or flushed down the toilet bowl. That's the least someone could do for an animal that suffers or suffered from the hands of the one with the god complex.

"It's like you dyed it with the color of the sky!"

"Your eyes are blue too! But... you can't dye your eyes!" Izaya proceeded to manhandle his face with his left hand and use his right to attempt in taking off nonexistent colored contacts. He immediately lost interest when Kuroko jabbed his stomach with fingers straightened like a knife ready to stab and proceeded to dramatically wince in pain.

Then Izaya turned his attention to a pregnant woman in the next compartment, sleeping on her husband's shoulder and said in a soft and conspiring voice, "That woman is really, really..." He paused for a dramatic effect and silence. "... Fat."

Orihara Izaya is a very unfocused and talkative individual.

Izaya leaned closer to Kuroko's ear to whisper, "What's the color of your underwear?" With a hand to cover his mouth and Kuroko's ear as if Izaya was telling the world's biggest secret of all time. Or maybe even a conspiring theory about the government.

When faced with Kuroko's patented glare number five, also known as 'you-are-stupid-thus-I-am-not-inclined-to-answer', Izaya frowned and put both hands to the sides of his head, imitating an esper with telekinesis. He closed his eyes tightly, brought his hands closer to press his skin and gave a look of constipated concentration.

"I will use my super awesome crazy powerful psychic powers to find out... it's... it's..." His eyes opened quick, his frozen posture jerked and a flinch from Kuroko later (which he will deny ever doing), "It's a Hello Kitty pattern!" Izaya shouted in a mock gasp of surprise, maybe even a little hurt that it wasn't a color while pointing rudely at Kuroko.

"Other patterns like hearts are okay but Hello Kitty?" Izaya shook his head mournfully, as if it was a big blow to mankind. "I am sooooo~oooo judging you right now."

Orihara Izaya is talented in making people feel uncomfortable.

One suppressed urge to bury his head in his hands later, Izaya turned around to face the window of the bullet train and started playing peek-a-boo with his reflection. Many giggles ensued with mad cackling in between and the number of scared occupants increased.

Stopping his impromptu game of peek-a-boo, he turned around with the most serious face one can muster after saying and doing ridiculous things and deadpanned, "Hello, this is your train conductor and I would like to advise to not eat the free peanuts in packets." He parroted his sentence. "I repeat; do not eat the free peanuts in packets. They are evil and will steal your soul."

Izaya stopped after ten minutes of pretending to be a voice recorder, which made Kuroko sigh in relief until said person started to play a game of imitating vehicle sounds, two minutes each precisely. Silently, Kuroko wondered in awe how the man beside him did that without a watch.

"Choo choo choo beeeeeeeeeep- "

"Vroom vroom vroom! Vroooooooooooooooom!"

"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwww- "

The airplane one was the worst.

Orihara Izaya is definitely mad.

He really doesn't know if he should regret this, but he made his bed and must now lay in it, whether he wants to or not.

While Kuroko wasn't looking, Izaya took off his jacket, tied the sleeves together around his neck and disappeared.

"Nananana, Batman!" He shouted with a hand punched in the air, running back and forth between train compartments, causing a few people to lose years of their life and faint amusement in the process.

Kuroko grimaced inwardly.

. . .

. .

. . .

They got off the train after an hour and a half or so, which saved Kuroko a bit of his sanity and cut down Izaya's hobby of scaring people for no apparent reason. Even after those actions Izaya had done, Kuroko remained calm and maintained a perfect poker face; the nightmare of any inexperienced or terrible poker players. The two walked together, steps matching each other as if they meticulously practiced synchronizing them and surprisingly, in silence with Izaya leading.

Curious as he was, Kuroko wouldn't bother asking why Izaya acted more strange than a man stuck in a straitjacket and in an asylum for life, where he was taking him or what the man was planning to do. Holding off any silly or questions that would be answered sooner or later, would save Kuroko his breath and time. Despite the fact that following a stranger was practically a no-no because people taking advantage of kindness was a common problem in today's society, it was all the more thrilling and dangerous.

Izaya started with a simple conversation – bringing him back on track –, sounding like the perfect copy of the Cheshire Cat and the epitome of uncaring and **inhumane**. A clear contrast to his earlier behavior and the seemingly seamless transition from imbecilic to deadly serious tells many things about Orihara Izaya, especially one.

He is someone not to be trifled with.

"I know we've just met and it sounds a little silly of me to say, but," He said, rolling off each word clearly, grinning all the way. Kuroko, even though he didn't show it, hung onto every single word. "You see, we share something in **common**."

The way he emphasized 'common' can mean many things, but Kuroko knows the true one instead of confusing himself over nothing and overcomplicating such a simple statement. This was the moment where Izaya would test him, in a way. To see if what made them _move_, _thrive_ and _tick_ and if they were all the same.

To see what made them feel alive.

To be honest, Kuroko wanted to know as much as Izaya did.

_(What if Kuroko was inhumane, too?)_

To show it, Izaya tapped his head lightly with his index finger. "We share the same way of thinking, but not necessarily the same mindset or personality." He hummed, swinging back and forth while balancing himself using the balls of his feet. "Oh, but I do know we share an excitement for something amazing. New. Something fun."

"Now, Kuroko-kun," he says it all as easily as foretelling the weather and asking about the time, "How far are you willing to go to create an exciting game of human chess?"

. . .

. .

. . .

_(Something so intoxicating until you drown, drown, drown in the exhilarating deep darkness as it envelopes and welcomes you.)_

. . .

. .

. . .

Something clicked in the deep recesses of his mind, his heart unchained and his soul free. It was like a trigger of a machine's clockwork; an intricate and difficult design suddenly stopped all of its programmed movements and with a simple push of a button, it reverses itself to create a new system, a different puzzle.

_(Maybe that was its true design._

_Maybe it was the true him.)_

For once, Kuroko wanted everything to be simple. No heartbreaks, no intruders, no strangers and no friendships. Only him, his manifestation of selfishness and freedom in the form of a man in the world he breathed, lived and walked in.

. . .

* * *

**A/N**: Whoop. Not much to say today. Please leave a review!


	5. rip, rip, tear apart

**A/N**: I hope you're all happy and satisfied with this chapter. You have no idea how much fun I had writing this. xD

* * *

**Crossroad** **of** **Life**

[ . . . 5 . . . ]

[ . . . rip, rip, tear apart . . . ]

* * *

"_You cannot carry out fundamental change without a certain amount of madness_."

– _**Thomas**_ _**Sankara**_

* * *

The asinine and childish stunts Izaya had pulled in the train ride were, surprisingly, not planned or choreographed. They were actually actions he did on the spur of the moment and for that, it annoyed him greatly. Orihara Izaya, make no mistake, is a man of endless schemes; he has contingency plans for contingency plans, each meticulously arranged like a medical procedure of top priority and formulated to the point of _perfection_. Be it a well-known target he had studied prior or an unknown in the busy crowd of Tokyo, he already knows how to deal with him or her and there will not even be the slightest blunder made.

It is true that Izaya, a human – as much as he loathes to admit – who fancies himself a god amongst men at times of peril and despair, can make miscalculations too, but they always turn out to be an interesting turn of events or something that completely gives him the higher advantage later on in the game. However, there is a small problem here concerning his new game of acquiring the bishop.

The bishop, Kuroko Tetsuya, did not have emotions. Well, he does – because it is impossible for a human to be completely emotionless in the literal sense – but the fact that he didn't wear any expressions made it harder for the informant to read. While frustrating, it was also quite hilarious, in a sense. Orihara Izaya was a master of reading and manipulating.

It was strange that a human could mask himself so perfectly without the help of one expression, like how some liked to pretend they were happy-go-lucky fellows without a care in the world or those who covered themselves in utterly pathetic sadness. This boy was completely and flawlessly blank. His body language was also rather "blank"; it was as if he was born without instinct and movement.

Like a marionette without strings, waiting for a puppet master to control him.

It goes to show that his new piece would be a challenge and Izaya never turns down any; he challenged hidden obstacles or made his own for a reason. After all, supposedly unbreakable toys were fun to break or possibly, in worst case scenario (maybe the best, in a twisted sense for Izaya), destroy.

Except that it also means another thing.

The older man didn't know how to deal with the strange high school boy. It made him feel inferior in terms of information he had in his arsenal because not knowing how to handle something meant that you weren't in control of a situation. He can't be lost in a labyrinth that he made himself. It's simply ridiculous!

He hated feeling like an ant compared to a giant. He hated not knowing what was beyond the curtains. He hated being led astray.

He **hated** it _so_, _so_, _so_ _much_.

But, of course, in true Izaya fashion, it made him laugh after a moment of self-doubt. Inferiority and abhorrence are such silly, negative feelings that practically scream _human_ made him laugh even more. For he, a mere mortal he was born as, was no longer just a mere mortal but a god amongst men and women!

He was superior and powerful!

He was the game master with many pawns at his disposal to create the finest game in history!

That was what led him to the spontaneous doings in the first place. Izaya needed a way to assess Kuroko's mentality and asking him outright would be absolutely boring. He wasn't a therapist for a reason, you know.

Spontaneous was the best way to go – had it been simple, the boy in question would have suspected a plan in the making, no matter how half-assed it was compared to Izaya's usual grand schemes. If Izaya showed himself as eccentric – not that he isn't in the first place –, it would be much harder for the boy to comprehend even a shred of his motives.

Besides, it would have been pathetic too, because it was a subtle suggestion that Izaya was too incompetent to find out on his own. Too useless and weak on his own, like a helpless infant. The sociopath would not show weakness, nor does he have any weaknesses. Though the results were really one-sided, Izaya gained a minor bruise and not what he was expecting, Izaya did feel a sense of triumph when Kuroko flinched in surprise and couldn't hide a grimace.

Besides, meeting his expectations would have been a dull turn.

It implied that Kuroko did still react, but most of it was held back or suppressed, like his body language. A _**why**_ was on the tip of Izaya's tongue, pondering on the reason of his current companion's stilled facial responses; could it have been abuse, a practiced social facade of indifference, a defense mechanism to avoid getting hurt verbally, or something else? Kuroko Tetsuya was definitely curious.

An enigma he needed to solve.

_(Is he unbreakable?)_

This game would be thrilling. If his new companion was going to be wearing a blank mask twenty-four/seven and hiding his emotions under lock with the key thrown away, Izaya would become the antithesis of him.

_(He will create the key, unlock the door and get rid of anything that stands in his way, be it man or object, to see the true self buried beneath the needless layers and bars of limits.)_

Izaya couldn't wait to twist, break, reattach, bend and remold an unbreakable human into an ultimate machine.

Kuroko Tetsuya would- no, _**will**_ be perfect piece in his human chess.

_(Most of all, the word 'unbreakable' has its opposite, like the other side of a coin. Even the unbreakable aren't invincible.)_

It is only right that god rebuilds one of his humans.

. . .

. .

. . .

Why there were nowhere near Izaya's place right not was spontaneous too. Izaya couldn't help it but want to continuously observe and test the boy. He didn't feel uncertainty or wonder if it was the right of him to offer his hand (because no matter the consequences, Izaya will face them and make the best out of it; that was how he worked), yet Izaya just wanted to see the choices the boy would make.

With much practice and understanding on the human mind, Izaya already knew that Kuroko would never kill someone. Out of necessity, yes, but never for pleasure or for kicks. But everything was still a 50/50 chance until Izaya finished twisting and reshaping the boy's morals.

But winning a verbal negotiation without impulsive violence of a teenager under pressure and making blunders that would give the opposition an advantage; now that's what Izaya wanted to see!

Maybe the now-dropout never noticed it himself, or chose to blatantly ignore it, but it was the truth that Kuroko Tetsuya may be something like an adrenaline junkie, similar to how daredevils have fun in doing wild and life-threatening stunts. It was even more excitement in it if you performed it, survived and lived to tell the tale.

There was a small possibility, a little, tiny, _teensy_-_weeny_, just a **maybe** that Kuroko thrived better in risky predicaments, the joy of thinking on his feet to gain an advantage or an upper hand to win a battle without blood but wits, mental calculations with chances in percentages to use, noting all the details in a single closed space – a room with one way in, no way out on first sight – to use to _escape_ and there was all there was to it.

That was also why, when they reached up to the third floor of an extremely run-down apartment with the signboard _**Sunnyside**_ _**Hills**_ as old as a fossil faced with a thousands of years of decay and yellow paint that ran and faded, roofs that seemed to be a breeding spot for holes, mold and disgusting little critters, stuffy rooms not fit for two and generally a terrible place to even think up of living at despite the modern day bankruptcy and desperation for a roof over your head, Kuroko's determination turned into hard cold steel refined like the sharpest knife of a murderer.

The boy may not know what Izaya has in store for him, but it is as obvious as daylight that the man was testing him. This is what made Izaya list Kuroko as one of the more favorable among his pieces; the boy didn't know the motive, but he knew what he had to do. He was the only pawn that wanted to shape the route of the game and see the outcome, no matter the good or bad.

He was the bishop that allowed himself to be used and guided in the game, instead of the blind sheep following the wicked shepherd.

A chess piece with a mind of its own; what fun!

It was wonderful how he had the perfect front row seat when it came to seeing his piece work. Just without the popcorn and more curiosity while doing so.

Something not acceptable by human standards, their laws full of loopholes and their blanket philosophies, but simply right for Kuroko.

. . .

. .

. . .

Before they went in, Izaya finally spoke after a long time of leaving the train ride and walking to the terrible apartment.

He heaved a deep sigh and made dramatic gestures, but Kuroko wasn't falling for it. It was a right guess of his that Orihara Izaya, other than being very eccentric, had a flair for dramatics.

"See here, Kuroko-kun, there's a group inside this place that people like to call **the scum of society**, those who live in the same world but cannot contribute to others in a positive way. In layman's terms, as you most likely do not want me to talk about their _sad_, _tragic_ backstory of _abuse_ from their family and peers and whatever angst teenagers face these days, these people are drug addicts with a dealer among them. Terribly aggressive if you take away their only joy. While I might not understand what's so fun about drugs and hallucinating about the floor moving, because I prefer reality, humans and games more, I do understand the concept of gaining happiness from it, I suppose."

Izaya chuckled.

Kuroko raised an eyebrow, a half-assed gesture for him to continue.

"But gaining happiness has a rather sad downside to it – oh, see what I did there –, because it can be taken from you as well. Also, seeing as we have arrived here already, we might as well ruin their lives in any way possible."

Kuroko frowned at the straightforward command. To be honest, he expected more evil eyes directed to himself, sugar-coated words and false promises to coax him into doing some sort of crime without letting him on at all. It was surprisingly… refreshing. He guessed that Izaya wasn't that kind of guy. But, that wasn't enough reason for him to take action against these people. He needed a reason, as his moral fiber demands so.

"What for? We don't even know them." There, not knowing a person and having no purpose to cause trouble was the way to go.

"You don't, but I do. You see, the dealer annoyed me because he decided he was smarter than me and stole my money. I've let him off the hook for a while, because money doesn't really matter to me, though it's high time to show him that he's just another's circus monkey."

Well, that made sense, somewhat. But if the money wasn't the problem, then...

"… So, if the stolen money doesn't bother you, it means that you have an inferiority complex concerning intelligence, Orihara-san."

The man tut-tutted him like he was in the wrong and he was nothing more than a petulant brat trying to win an argument by crying and screaming obnoxiously. Indignation wormed its way into Kuroko, but otherwise did not show physically and he did not voice it out.

Kuroko did specialize in the Art of Blankness and he wasn't going to break his longest running streak of being unreadable.

"You're mistaken there, Kuroko-kun, because I am simply always a hundred steps ahead of the entire human race. It's like saying a snail can outrun a constantly running cheetah. In any case, it's not having an inferiority complex when you know it's the truth and within your rights to correct the wrongdoer."

The younger male wisely did not comment, because Izaya was giving him an eye smile that was not conveying happiness.

"Besides, won't it be wonderfully amusing to see someone's look of despair? It's not like we purposely ruined their lives since they popped out of their mother's womb anyways – they haven't done any good since then, have they?"

"We won't necessarily be tearing apart the story they wrote themselves until there's none left. We'll just be doing a little editing in the middle, that's all."

. . .

. .

. . .

_(Become his savior, and you will lead him to -?)_

. . .

. .

. . .

Kuroko decided to break the silence.

"So, how are we going to ruin these peoples' lives?"

Izaya gave an amused smile.

"Preferably in a way that you and I enjoy it. After all, we are the editors and the temporary readers."

This time, Kuroko smiled, too.

* * *

**A/N**: The alternate title name for this chapter was "Izaya's being a complex shit and Kuroko might not have morals".


End file.
